


Bad to the Bone

by bjfic_archivist



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst, Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-22
Updated: 2004-10-22
Packaged: 2018-12-26 23:58:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12069600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bjfic_archivist/pseuds/bjfic_archivist
Summary: Takes place about a year after the Rage party.  Brian has been on a downward spiral.





	Bad to the Bone

**Author's Note:**

> Note from IrishCaelan, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Brian_Justin_Fanfiction_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in September 2017. I posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Brian/Justin Fanfiction Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/bjfic/profile).

Brian staggered out of the backroom at Babylon. That had been his third trip in there for the evening. He wished he felt like it had been worthwhile. He had been through all the decent fucks that frequented Babylon. What was left was often less than desirable, and more times than not, totally inept. He might have to seriously rethink his one-time-only policy. 

He headed towards the bar. He needed another drink. He always needed another drink. With such sterling role models as his two alkie parents why would it be any different? He snorted at the thought. He wanted that drink – now! There were never enough drinks to make him forget, to make his mind blank, to make his heart stop hurting.

"Brian!" Michael called to him trying to get his attention. "Brian!" Michael repeated trailing behind his best friend and trying to get him to answer. Michael refused to be ignored.

"What?" Brian snapped at him turning to stare at his pesky friend.

"It's time to go home," Michael said.

"Not yet."

"Brian?" Michael persisted. He wanted to get Brian out of there before he passed out completely, as had been his MO lately. It was getting boring having to half carry, half drag the taller man home every night.

"Piss off, Mikey. Go the fuck home if you want to. Just leave me alone. I'm not done here yet."

"Yes you are," Michael insisted. "You have work tomorrow."

"Fuck off!" Brian said glaring at Michael.

"Brian, you need to get some sleep."

"You're not my fucking mother, Michael, so piss off."

Brian made his way over to the bar and signaled for his usual, a double scotch. He threw it back and nodded for another. Michael appeared at his elbow.

"Come on, Brian," Michael said. "Let's go."

"You know, you are fucking annoying sometimes!"

"I have your best interests at heart."

"Yeah, right!" Brian snorted.

"I'm getting sick of this mess," Michael declared starting to get angry.

"And what mess is that?"

"You! You're a fucking mess … all the time. If you're not falling down drunk, you're high or you're not talking today or you're fucking everything that moves. I'm sick of it."

"Then get.the.fuck.out!" Brian punctuated each word getting right into Michael's face. "Nobody's twisting your fucking arm to stay."

"How … how can you say stuff like that to me … after all the times I've helped you home … and … and saved you from fucking killing yourself?" Michael blustered.

"And I'm supposed to thank you for saving me? Don't you fucking get it, Michael? I don't care. I don't want to be saved. Just leave me alone!"

"Brian…"

"Michael, shut up and get out!"

"What's happened to you? What have you become?"

"Don't you know?" Brian leered drunkenly at his longtime friend. I'm evil. I'm the devil. I'm Beelzebub. Just ask my fucking mother!"

Brian staggered off determined to push Michael away once and for all. Michael watched him weave his way onto the dance floor. Hands reached out to touch and grab. Brian didn't seem to mind. He could forget his troubles for a few minutes while he had someone's mouth on his dick or his cock up someone's ass. 

Michael shook his head and turned away from the spectacle that his friend had become. Over the last year he had managed to give the term slut a whole new meaning. Michael knew there was nothing more that he could say. With a deep sigh he walked out of Babylon. He would go home to Ben and try to pick up his own life that he had put on hold ever since Justin Taylor had walked out of Brian's life, and his too, at the Rage party.

\-----

Brian awoke to a strange feeling. Someone was in bed with him. Justin! The thought raced through Brian's head, through his body and straight to his groin. He rolled over and tried to make his bleary eyes focus on Justin lying beside him. He saw the blond hair and the soft curve of the shoulder that stuck out above the duvet. His hand reached out to touch the soft flesh lying so close and so inviting.

"Umm," a voice murmured at his touch.

"Justin," Brian whispered.

The man next to him turned over and stared at him with pale blue eyes. But the eyes weren't Justin's and the lips weren't Justin's and the face wasn't Justin's.

"Who the fuck are you?" Brian managed to croak recoiling.

"Derek."

"What are you doing here?"

"I brought you home last night. You were too wasted to drive. I found you in the parking lot trying to unlock your Jeep. You couldn't get the key in the hole. I helped you and then drove you here. You sort of passed out on me, but I managed to get you up here. You said I could stay and you'd fuck me later."

"That window of opportunity has closed. Get out!"

"What?"

"You heard me. Get out!"

"You fucking asshole! I did you a favor last night, and this is the thanks I get?"

"Them's the breaks. Fuck off."

Derek hiked himself up off the bed and slid into his jeans and shirt. When he was finished he turned back to face Brian who had his arm across his eyes protecting them from the blazing light that filtered through the curtains of the loft. His head throbbed dully.

"I should have known better than to help you, you son of a bitch," Derek felt compelled to say. "Everybody warned me that Brian Kinney was an evil bastard who had no respect for anybody including himself. I'll take it as a compliment to be turned down by the slut of Liberty Avenue. I'm sure I'll feel great about this in an hour or two. I hope you go straight to Hell!"

"You wish, you and my fucking mother," Brian mumbled as he moved his arm enough to witness Derek stomping out of the loft and slamming the door behind him. Brian thought his head would explode as the metal door connected violently with its frame.

Brian moaned and turned over pulling the pillow over his aching head. He needed to get up and go to work, but he wasn't sure he had the strength to rise from his bed. With any luck at all it would be his death bed. That would suit him just fine at the moment.

Reluctantly he sat up trying to keep his swimming head from falling off his shoulders. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and felt slightly sick to his stomach. Thank God his stomach was empty. He couldn't remember when he had last eaten.

A few tentative steps brought him to the bathroom doorway and he leaned on the frame for a minute trying to focus his eyes and clear the fog from his head. He walked into the bathroom and reached into the shower to start the water. He leaned on the sink while he waited for it to warm up. A glance in the mirror filled him with revulsion. He looked like shit and he wasn't sure a shower would make much of an improvement. For a second he wished he had a portrait like Dorian Gray, something that could be stored in a closet and would accumulate all the lines and wrinkles of his debauchery. He could remain unscathed by the life he was living, young and beautiful forever. He shook his head knowing that it was his own face that was showing the effects of his current lifestyle.

Brian stepped into the shower and felt the hot water slide over his body. He groaned in satisfaction. It felt so good. Lately he felt cold right to the core of his being and he didn't like that feeling at all.

His morning wood rested against his leg and he reached for it. Maybe he should have let that guy stay and take care of it for him. Too late now. His hand surrounded his length and he began to stroke slowly at first. He remembered waking up and thinking … thinking that Justin was in bed with him. And that guy had had blond hair, but he wasn't Justin. Nobody was Justin. He had been looking for so long now but nobody was Justin.

His mind drifted back to all the things he and Justin had done in this shower. He stroked faster and more insistently as his mind took him to places he had been trying to avoid for a year. He and Justin fucking, sucking, kissing, caressing, feeling. His hand moved even faster and he exploded with a mighty groan. Why did it take images of his former lover to make him feel like this?

He turned off the shower and stepped out grabbing a towel from the rack. As he dried off he marveled at how resilient the human body was. He almost felt human, and all it had taken was a hot shower and a quick hand job and thoughts… He quickly forced his mind to focus on what he would wear to work. He couldn't dwell on those other thoughts. He just couldn't.

\-----

That night Brian sat at the bar at Woody's. He had shot a game of pool with some guy and then had taken the loser of the pool game into the backroom. He wished he hadn't bothered. The guy had been pathetic at giving a blowjob. He downed the rest of his drink. That was his fourth since he arrived at Woody's but there were many, many more to come.

"Hey, Brian, how ya doing?" a voice said from behind him.

"Emmett," Brian said without turning around having recognized the distinctive voice.

"Buy a fella a drink?" Emmett asked.

"Sure." Brian signaled to the bartender who quickly whipped up a cosmo for Emmett. 

"Are you heading over to Babylon?"

"Soon."

"Me too. You've been there a lot lately."

Brian glanced at Emmett. He had a feeling he was being set up for something. "So what did Mikey tell you to do with me?" Brian asked.

Emmett choked on his cosmo. "He … I … We …"

"Don't bother. I'm not interested."

"He's just worried about you, Brian," Emmett said softly.

"I don't want him fucking worrying about me. And I don't want you to get involved either."

"But we're both concerned."

Brian sighed. "I can take care of myself. Haven't I made that fucking clear?" Brian stomped off probably heading for Babylon.

"That went well," Emmett said to himself. "Too bad Brian can't really take care of himself." Emmett turned on his stool and watched the door close behind Brian. He was worried about the man, almost as much as Michael was. Brian had been on a long downward spiral ever since Justin left, and there seemed to be nothing any of them could do to halt it. It had in fact gotten much worse over the last few weeks. Emmett wasn't sure why but he knew the first anniversary of Justin's leaving was approaching and he wondered if that was why Brian seemed to be hitting the drugs and especially the booze harder than ever. 

Brian had taken to saying that he was going to Hell anyway so he might as well enjoy himself on his descent to eternal damnation. The only problem was that Emmett and all Brian's other friends didn't think that he was enjoying himself much at all. In fact they all believed he was doing his best not to feel anything.

Emmett signaled for another cosmo. He had tried just like Michael had asked him to do, but he had made a mess of it just like he knew he would. Nobody could help Brian, nobody but a certain blond who none of them had seen for months and who didn't seem to care about what happened to his old friends in Pittsburgh.

\-----

Brian was pissed as he drove towards Babylon. It took several minutes for him to get there and that gave him time to think … unfortunately. He remembered the incident with that guy when he had woken up this morning, and he knew he would have to be a bit more careful. He would have to maintain some of his faculties. He didn't want any more unwelcome surprises when he woke up tomorrow morning.

As he drove, he fumed silently that Michael wouldn't give up on him. He had done just about everything in his power to drive his friend away, and still he persisted. Now he was enlisting others, like Emmett to try to make Brian change his ways. Well, he didn't want to change his ways. He refused to. He had fallen into a pattern of drinking, drugging and fucking and that got him through the day. He saw no reason to change.

Michael just didn't get it. Brian's life had basically ended when Justin had walked away. Brian knew that he had pushed his lover into doing so, but he had been sure somehow that Justin would come back to him. That had been a fool's dream. Justin had gone off somewhere on tour with the fiddler and no one had seen him in months. That's what he got for putting all his eggs in one basket and allowing himself to feel … something for Justin. 

He had never done that with anyone else. He knew it was a mistake from the moment it started, but Justin had been so persistent. If he was honest with himself, he was flattered that Justin cared so much for him. He even tried to reciprocate as best he could. But if he was honest about this too, there had been a point beyond which he refused to go. He would not admit even to himself that he loved Justin, because he didn't. He was sure he didn't. But here he was a year later in such sad shape because Justin had left, that his friends felt obligated to try to save him.

Their attempts would be futile, because Brian didn't want them to succeed. He had months ago assigned his life to follow the pattern of his parents. He was a drunk, although still a somewhat functional drunk. He still had a job, even though Vance was starting to get on his case. It was hard to be creative when his brain was fried half the time. He would follow the glorious family history of drunkenness and cruelty.

He had every intention of dying very soon. He didn't know if it would be in an accident with the Jeep while he was drunk or a drug overdose or a long fall down a flight of stairs. But he knew it was coming. He knew he couldn't go on like this much longer. He could feel the end drawing near. And that was what he wanted – to go out in a blaze, maybe not of glory, but at least of some interest, while he was young and still hopefully beautiful. He'd go straight to Hell because technically it would be a form of suicide, and because he was gay, and because he had cursed God so many times during his life. He could meet Jack there and tell the old son of a bitch what he really thought of him.

Brian walked up the steps of Babylon. He needed another drink and he sure as fuck needed a trick. He didn't think Michael would be there to bother him tonight, so he could get silently wasted and then he would be able to forget, to feel nothing. And that would be bliss, because he hated what he felt and what his mind kept remembering. It brought him only pain, and he wanted the pain to end.

Many drinks, several bumps and two tricks later, Brian was beginning to stumble slightly as he walked, but the numbness was setting in. That was a good thing. He propped himself up against the bar and threw back another drink. 

Suddenly he felt the temperature in Babylon change. The hairs on his arms stood up. Something had happened, and then he heard that soft voice somewhere behind him.

Justin!

Brian's heart wrenched in his chest and his stomach began to churn. He felt his gorge begin to rise and knew that he was going to throw up. He swallowed again and again trying to keep the contents of his stomach in place.

He grabbed the glass containing the rest of his scotch and downed it. He groaned slightly as the harsh liquid made contact with the roiling mass in his gut. When it somehow stayed down, Brian turned slowly to face his past.

Justin looked good, a little older, a little more confident, a little … sadder. Brian blinked as this realization hit him. He wondered what that meant.

Justin was talking animatedly with a young man that Brian was sure he had fucked not long ago. They seemed to be enjoying each other's company, but Justin's eyes didn't show real happiness. Brian remembered when Justin was really happy and this was not the right look. The glorious sunshine smile was not in evidence. That was the smile that Brian loved and had tried so hard to forget. He felt his stomach take another disconcerting roll. He staggered slightly and leaned against the bar more heavily as the impact of all he had lost hit him once again.

Slowly Justin turned, like he knew Brian's eyes were on him and had not left him for several minutes. Their eyes met and that old, familiar pull coursed through Brian's body. He wondered if Justin still felt it too. Brian felt his cock grow harder as he stared at Justin. He groaned silently at how easily his body could betray him.

Justin smiled slightly, tentatively. The look on Justin's face held something that Brian could not deal with. He cringed inwardly afraid to face what he saw written in Justin's expression – promise, hope. Brian knew that those things were impossible, so he turned abruptly back to the bar and signaled for another drink. He took a large gulp trying to stop the slight tremor of his hand. The drink seemed to steady his nerves in spite of how drunk he actually was.

A hand softly touched his shoulder and that familiar voice said, "Brian." 

"Fuck off!" Brian said without looking at who had touched him. He knew who it was. He also knew that looking at Justin face to face might be the end of him. He downed the rest of his drink.

"Brian," Justin repeated. He always was a persistent little shit. "Brian, it's me."

Brian steeled himself and turned to face his former lover. "So?" he said with all the sarcasm and cruelty that he could muster. "What the fuck do you want?"

"I'm back," Justin said with an attempt at a smile. He refused to let Brian's words destroy him. He had known this was going to be difficult.

"And that would interest me because…?" Brian made a throwaway gesture with his hand.

Justin stepped back involuntarily. That had hurt. Brian always knew how to hurt him. "I just … I just … saw you … and thought I'd say hello."

Brian glared at him. "Mission accomplished as our esteemed President would say. Now fuck off!"

"Brian?" Justin questioned, the hurt evident on his face. "Can't we at least be civil?"

"Civil?" Brian spat at him. "No, we can't." He started to walk away looking for a likely trick to take into the backroom. That would punctuate his rebuff of Justin and he needed some relief right away. Seeing Justin had made him hard despite his harsh words to the boy. He continued to walk away refusing to acknowledge Justin, refusing to give the blond any consideration at all. At least that's how he hoped it appeared to everyone, especially Justin.

"Brian!" Justin called out not willing to give up yet.

"Fuck off!" Brian yelled back.

"Brian, please!"

Brian turned back and yelled above the music, "What part of 'fuck off' don't you understand?"

"Can we talk … please?"

"I have nothing to say to you. Can't you get that through your thick skull?" Brian turned away. He had to escape.

"Brian! Please!"

"Go find the fucking turnip truck that dropped you off. Go home and fuck your fiddler. Just stay the fuck away from me!" Brian turned away.

"I can't," Justin whispered.

Brian didn't know how he heard Justin's words. Maybe they were spoken at a lull in the music. Maybe he knew Justin too well. Maybe it was intuition, but he turned back. The look of despair on Justin's face nearly killed him. 

"What did you say?" Brian asked trying to stop himself from moving to Justin and taking him in his arms, protecting him and soothing the hurt he saw written across his face.

""I said … I can't," Justin said. It came out almost as a moan.

Brian wanted to ask for an explanation. Did Justin mean he couldn't leave Brian alone or did he mean that he couldn't go home to the fiddler? Whatever he meant Brian knew this was no place to discuss it. He stepped closer to Justin staring into his eyes. Whatever he saw there caused him to take Justin's hand and drag the boy out of Babylon. Somehow during all of this Brian had become quite sober.

He marched Justin out to the Jeep and opened the door. Justin climbed in without a word. He knew they would have their chance to talk and that was all he wanted. Brian drove in silence. Justin knew they were going to the loft and that suited him fine.

Brian was in turmoil. He had spent the last year denying any feelings for Justin and one look at the boy, young man, and he had been unable to resist taking him home. How fucked was that? And what was he going to do with him when they got to the loft. He knew what he would like to do, but that was not possible. He would listen to Justin's tale of woe, quote him some platitudes about how life always screwed you over, and then kick Justin out on his well endowed ass. Yes, that was exactly what he would do. They didn't call him a devil for nothing.

Justin stared out the window of the Jeep watching the lights pass by and trying to keep his heart from pounding out of his chest. It had taken a long time for him to get to this point, but he was determined to have his say once and for all regardless of the consequences. He hoped Brian would understand, but if he didn't, at least he would know that he had tried. Justin took a deep breath and tried to calm down.

All too quickly for each of them the loft came into view. Brian pulled into a spot and got out. Justin sat motionless in the passenger seat. He wasn't sure he could get his legs to work. He felt weak all over. He had waited for this moment for months and now he didn't know if he could face it. All of his resolve had evaporated.

Suddenly the door beside him was yanked open. "Get out!" Brian barked.

Justin jumped at the anger in Brian's voice, but he slid out of his seat and willed his legs to hold him up. He wasn't sure exactly why Brian was angry. It could be because Justin had taken him away from his nightly entertainment at Babylon. It could be because Brian hated him and really didn't want to talk to him. It could be because Brian didn't care about him anymore at all and had moved on with his life. Justin was hard pressed to pick one of those reasons for Brian's anger. But he hoped it was the first.

Brian let them into the building and Justin followed. Brian took the stairs, so Justin followed behind him climbing with trepidation towards whatever this confrontation would produce. Justin waited as Brian fumbled with the keys for the door to the loft. Did he see a slight tremor in Brian's hand? It must just be the amount of liquor that Brian had consumed. Finally the door was open and Brian passed through.

Justin followed warily feeling this was so much like the first time he had ever entered the loft. Brian was at the fridge getting a bottle of water. Justin half expected the man to take off his shirt and dump the bottle of water over his head. That had been the sexiest thing he had ever seen, that was until Brian took off the rest of his clothes.

As Justin stood staring at him, Brian drank half the bottle of water. He looked over at Justin and could see the scared boy who had come to the loft so long ago. He wondered why Justin seemed as scared this night as he had back then. He was certainly no longer a virgin. Brian wondered if Justin was afraid of him. If he was that was probably a good thing. It would make it that much easier for Brian to throw him out and crush any thought Justin might have of ever coming back.

"So what do you want to talk about?" Brian asked keeping his voice level and trying not to reveal any of the emotions he was feeling.

"Could…" Justin started. He cleared his throat and asked, "Could I have some water too?"

Brian raised an eyebrow, but opened the fridge and tossed a bottle of water to Justin. Justin caught it and twisted off the cap. He drank slowly needing to lubricate his very dry throat and giving himself a bit of time to think of what he wanted to say. Justin wished he had a glass of Beam instead of the water.

"Need something stronger?" Brian asked. It seemed like he could read Justin's thoughts.

"No … um … this is fine," Justin stammered.

"Then get to the fucking point!"

"What's happened to you?" Justin asked frowning at this mean and nasty Brian that seemed to have emerged.

"We didn't come here to fucking talk about me. Understand?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure," Justin said. This was not going well.

"So what the fuck do you want?"

"I wanted to make sure you were all right."

Brian snorted. "Like you care! It's only been what … eight months since we've laid eyes on each other."

"That … that's part of what I want to explain."

"What's to explain? You found someone else, you fucked, you disappeared. I got the message loud and clear."

"And what message was that?" Justin asked staring unblinkingly at Brian. He wanted an answer to that question.

"That you were done with me, that I wasn't enough for you, and that I will never be," Brian said smugly. He had told himself that time and time again.

Justin shook his head. "Sometimes you are so dumb, and what's worse you seem to think I'm stupid too."

"What the fuck are you saying?" Brian blustered. Nobody called him stupid and lived to tell about it.

"You heard me loud and clear," Justin declared. "I'm far from done with you. You tried your best to make me think that you were done with me though."

"What?"

"You refused to give an inch, you big asshole. You had me convinced that you would never say what I wanted to hear. You had all the control and you would never let me forget that for one minute."

Brian grinned. "That's right. I do have all the control, and there is nothing you can do about it."

"Not unless you want me to do something about it."

"And why would I want that?"

"To be happy," Justin said softly.

"Happy? When have I ever been happy? It's not in my nature. I'm a mean, cruel, cold bastard. Didn't you learn that while you were here … or were you too stupid for that too?"

Justin felt the jolt of Brian's words, but he refused to cave. He took another breath and plunged on, "Oh I learned that all right. But I learned a few other things too."

"Like what?" Brian heard himself ask although he was sure he wouldn't like what he was going to hear.

"That you are a kind, gentle man when you want to be." Brian snorted derisively. "I learned that when I needed you you would be there, but that you still doubted that I love you."

"Shouldn't that be past tense, Sunshine?" Brian baited him.

"Should it?" Justin asked with those wide, trusting eyes. Jesus, why did he have to look at him like that? Brian was the first to blink.

"Where's the fiddler?" Brian asked instead of dealing with that question.

"Gone."

"Gone where?"

"World tour or some such fucking thing. He's got his groupies and he's very happy."

"Where does that leave you?"

"Alone. Back here in Pittsburgh. Talking to you."

"What? Do you think you can just waltz back into my life like you never fucking left?"

"Something like that."

Brian laughed out loud. "You've got balls!"

"You told me that once a long time ago … and I have a great cock and an even better ass. Right, Mr. Kinney?"

"What do you want?" Brian frowned. This was getting weird. It sounded like Justin really did want to come back.

"I want to know where things stand between us."

"They don't stand anywhere. There is no 'us'."

"Oh yes there is, or we wouldn't be here."

Brian wasn't sure how to answer that. "I think it's time for you to go." He started to move towards the door.

"I'm not going anywhere, Brian. There's more we have to discuss."

Brian stopped. "Such as?"

"Such as how you arranged for me to see you with Rage at Babylon. You really fucked yourself that night, and me in the bargain. That was quite a stroke of genius."

Brian was about to protest, but he changed his mind. "It was, wasn't it? It proved how loyal you really were. Worked out quite well," he added smugly.

"Oh, very well. We've both been miserable for months. That clearly was a worthwhile plan, don't you think?" Justin said boldly.

"What makes you think I've been miserable?" Brian asked defensively.

"I've talked to people."

"Michael?"

"No, but I'm sure he would give me the same story as that guy I was talking to when you saw me at Babylon. He filled me in on your … activities over the last few months."

"That's none of your fucking business!"

"I'm sorry, Brian," Justin said simply.

"Sorry's…"

"…Bullshit, I know. But I'm still sorry that I didn't have enough faith in you, in us, in myself. I made a huge mistake getting involved with Ethan. It's you that I want. It's you that I will always want."

"Get out!" Brian said turning away. He couldn't stand to look at Justin anymore. He couldn't stand to listen to words that he wanted so badly to be true, but that he knew were false. Love was a crock of shit. It was all a big lie.

"I'll go now if you want me too. That was what I needed to tell you."

"And that's it. Sorry makes everything all right?" Brian demanded.

"I don't know that anything can make what I did right," Justin admitted. "But you had your hand in it too. I guess I wondered if you had learned anything while I've been gone. I guess you didn't," Justin said sadly as he turned towards the door.

"Justin," Brian whispered. He prayed that Justin heard him. He hoped that Justin didn't hear him. He didn't know what he wanted. He felt like he was going to implode.

"I'll stay if you want me to," Justin said turning back. "All you have to do is ask."

"I … I … It's your choice," Brian said lamely. That was more than he wanted to say.

"That's where you're wrong, Brian. I made my choice when I went to Babylon looking for you. This is your choice. Ask me to stay and I will. Say nothing and I'm gone."

"Where the fuck do you get off giving me ultimatums?" Brian demanded.

"It's not an ultimatum. It's a choice … and maybe it's the biggest choice of both our lives, so choose carefully."

Justin waited. Brian stared at him. Nobody moved. Nothing was said. Justin sighed and began to walk towards the still open door of the loft. When he reached the door he turned for one last look at Brian. The man stood rooted to the same spot, staring off into space. He seemed to have no intention of calling Justin back. It was over. Justin stepped across the threshold.

"Wait!" 

Justin turned to find Brian standing in the doorway. He looked into the man's beautiful eyes and he wanted to weep. "Wait for what, Brian?"

"To hear me ask you to stay," Brian whispered.

"Oh, my God, you said it!" Justin cried and he flung himself into Brian's arms.

Their bodies collided and their lips met. They fit together perfectly like they always had, like they had never been apart.

When the kiss ended, Brian pushed Justin back so he could look into his eyes. "We have a lot of things to settle," Brian cautioned.

"I know, but we can do that later," Justin replied and his lips found Brian's again.

Quickly the door to the loft was locked, clothes evaporated, and they found themselves in their bed. When Brian entered his young lover he knew this was what he had been looking for all those months and all the tricks that he had used up.

Somehow it was like the first time, Justin's legs on his shoulders, the tight pinch of entry, the anticipation of fulfillment, the heat and the sweat, the union of two bodies and two minds and two spirits. And most of all it was the explosion of feeling. That was what had been missing for so long for both of them.

When they were finished they lay on their sides looking at each other. Neither knew what to say. Their fingers linked together without them really thinking about it, and they stared into each other's eyes.

"Can we make this work, or will we just hurt each other again?" Brian finally had to ask.

"All we can do is try," Justin said. "But I know now that this is where I want to be."

"Even if I'm a devil to live with?"

Justin chuckled. "You can be my devil anytime."

"Are you really sure about this?" Brian felt compelled to ask.

"Yes, it's what I want. I know it won't be easy, but I've learned my lesson. I want to be here … with you."

"Even if I'm … bad to the bone?"

"Even if…" Justin smiled. "Besides, you're not so bad." Justin gave Brian a kiss on the cheek.

"You must either be a saint or a glutton for punishment."

"Both, and I'm also an angel."

"My angel," Brian whispered running his finger down the side of Justin's beautiful face.

"Brian Kinney getting mushy? I don't believe it."

"You're a devilish angel," Brian smirked.

"And you're an angelic devil," Justin giggled.

"You're so weird," Brian chuckled kissing the end of Justin's nose.

"That's why you love me."

"Yeah."

The megawatt smile was blinding. Angel and devil were ready for round two. The details would wait for another time.


End file.
